Courage
by G.emini S.hadow
Summary: Takes place during the movie. Begins when Arthur and the knights arrive at Marius's estate and meet one of the women living in his village. She has had a hard past, but befriends the knights and fights, taught by a blacksmith, with them. Ch. 3 up!
1. Chapter 1: Arrival

**_Courage_**

_By Gemini Shadow_

Author's Note: This story takes place when the Knights arrive at Marius' estate. I will try and follow the characters' lines as best as possible, but my main character will not be around them the entire time so some lines will not be put in and some scenes will not be there at all for they have nothing to do with her. Please no flames or angry comments on how I'm doing this...It's just for entertainment. Enjoy! Oh and I own nothing from King Arthur except Ariadne. Her name comes from a story of Greek Mythology. No comments on it please...it is from lack of a better name. Ok. On with the show!

**Chapter 1: Arrival**

Around handsome stone gates, pebbles on the path shook and jumped with the sound of pounding hooves. Villagers dropped their full buckets of water and looked off down the road, wondering where these horses were from. One girl continued along with her work. She noisily dumped her bucket of water into a trough, scowling the entire time. More Romans. Horsemen rode up to the gate. The girl stood up straighter as she heard a man's voice demanding admittance. She frowned as she heard his low voice.

"I am Arthur Castus. Commander of the Sarmatian Knights sent by Bishop Germanius of Rome. Open your gates," he said.

The gates slowly creaked open and Marius strode out. The girl quickly decided maybe this was something she would like to be hearing. She dropped her buckets to the ground and pushed her way through the surrounding crowd.

"Our orders are to evacuate you immediately," Arthur said.

"Impossible," Marius said.

"Which is Alecto?" Arthur asked.

"I am Alecto," called a boy standing above the gate.

"Alecto is my son and everything we have is here, given to us by the Pope of Rome-"

"Well, you're about to give it to the Saxons," a curly-haired knight said in an agitated voice.

"They're invading from the north," Arthur said.

Marius was quiet and seemed to be intimidated by these warriors. The girl watched smugly as he stumbled to find the correct words.

"Then Rome will send an army!" he declared.

"They have. Us. We leave as soon as you are packed," Arthur said quickly.

"I refuse to leave," Marius said.

The knights stared at him quietly and their horses shifted beneath them. Marius turned his attention back to the villagers.

"Go back to work! All of you!" he screamed at them.

Quickly, his mercenaries ran to the crowd and shoved people away. Some they punched in the face. The girl was lifted off her feet and thrown in the mud. She jumped up and began swinging at the big man who had thrown her.

"Get off of me!" she screamed at him.

She was sick of it. Being pushed around as if she was nothing. The man ignored her and dragged her over to a post and quickly tied her hands to it. She spit on the ground at his feet and he slapped her across the face. The curly-haired knight had watched all of this. She caught his gaze and quickly looked to the ground. Arthur stepped off his horse and put his face close to Marius.

"If I fail to bring you and your son back, my men can never leave this land. So you're coming with me even if I have to tie you to my horse and drag you to Hadrian's Wall myself," Arthur said menacingly.

His eyes never left Marius's face and his expression never changed.

"My lord," he added mockingly.

He turned to Fulcinia who was standing beside Marius.

"Lady, my knights are hungry," he said.

She turned to her husband questioningly and he roughly turned his head towards the house.

"Go!" he said.

She quickly headed back behind the gate. Marius held Arthur's glare for a few more seconds before calling to Alecto.

"Come," he said, walking away.

Arthur walked over to where a man hung in chains. His body was filthy and he had bloody welts all along his back. The girl watched him apprehensively as Ganis followed him. She didn't notice the mercenary who had come up next to her. He had a thick whip and was ready to punish her for her earlier insolence. She glared up at him, determined. She would not cry out. The whip came down. Every inch of her skin ached and tingled. There was a thin line of blood along her forearm. The whip came down again on her back. She closed her eyes, drifting away from the world. Every time the whip connected with her skin, was like a heartbeat to her. Suddenly, she heard the man gasp. The curly-haired knight had taken the whip from him and thrown it on the ground.

"Release her," he said through gritted teeth.

The mercenary fumbled with the ropes and she slid to the ground. Her wrists were rubbed raw, but not bad. She slowly stood up and ripped the hem of her ratty dress and wrapped it along her arm. There was nothing she could do now for her back. She slowly looked up. The knight hadn't moved. His expression was not the friendliest, but he offered her his hand which she did not take. One act of kindness would not do. She would never trust men.

"Your name, lady?" he asked.

"My name? My name will be but a near invisible cloud on a bright blue day. Of no use to you," she said.

The knight laughed and she shot him a look of utter dislike before stalking off.

Arthur stood near the village elder and pointed his blade at the man.

"Who is this man?" he asked Ganis.

"Our village elder," Ganis answered him.

"What's his punishment for?" Arthur asked.

Utter silence.

"Speak!"

"He defied our master, Marius. Most of our food is sold. He asked that a little be kept for us to eat, that's all! My arse has been snuffing at the grass I'm so hungry! You're from Rome. Is it trued that Marius is a spokesman from God and it's a sin to defy him?" Ganis asked.

The girl stopped on her way to the blacksmith's. What would be Arthur's answer? She desperately wanted to hear it. He was a man. Would he consider even the village women as his equals? Arthur stopped. He looked at all the villagers with disbelief in his eyes. His anger could be seen as well. He pointed his sword at all of them.

"I tell you now, Marius is not of God! And you, all of you, were free from your first breath!" he said.

He swung the blade around and freed the village elder. He crumpled to the ground and the girl rushed forward. She knelt at the man's side and he blearily opened his eyes and looked at her.

"Ariadne," he murmured, touching her golden hair.

A single tear rolled down her cheek as she held the old man's head. Arthur looked down at them and turned back to the villagers.

"Help them," he said.

No one moved a muscle.

"Help them!"

Several men rushed forward and gently lifted the man out of Ariadne's arms. She watched as they took the man to a woman for medicine.

"Now hear me. A vast and terrible army is coming this way. They will show no mercy. If you are able, gather your things and move south to Hadrian's Wall. If you are unable, then you are coming with us," he said, and turned to Ganis. " You, serve me now. Help these people prepare."

Ganis set about his task with an air of importance. Ariadne got up off the ground and ran up to Arthur. He was walking towards another knight who had just galloped in. She ran a little quicker, but Arthur was already speaking with the knight.

"They've flanked us to the east and have cut off our escape to the south. They'll be here at nightfall," the knight said.

"How many?" Arthur asked.

"An entire army," the knight replied.

"And our only escape is to the south?"

The knight shook his braided head.

"East. There's a trail through the mountains. We'll have to cross behind the Saxon lines. Who are all these people?" he asked.

"They're coming with us."

"Then we'll never make it," the knight said.

Ariadne seized the brief moment of silence.

"Excuse me, my lord," she said.

Arthur turned to look at her. Snow had started to lightly fall and some of it was clumping on her eyelashes. Arthur observed the slender, if half starved girl in front of him. It was the same girl who had helped the elder. She had long blonde hair and gray-green eyes. She was pretty, even covered in as much dirt as she was.

"My lord, you said we were all free. Are we equal as well?" she asked.

Arthur just looked at her and Ariadne immediately wished she had kept her mouth shut. Men would be men. However, Arthur surprised her.

"If you wish to be equal then seize the opportunity," he said.

"Would you allow me to ride a horse and carry a sword?" she asked.

Arthur was a little taken aback by this, but he acted as if it was normal.

"If it pleases you, my lady," he said.

He quickly walked away for something else had caught his eye. The monks were still walling up the old prison. The mercenaries yelled at them and roughly pushed them to go faster. Arthur walked over, his sword out.

"Move!" he commanded.

The men stood still and regarded him fearlessly, or at least pretended to be fearless.

"Move!" he said once more.

The men slowly backed away and the curly-haired knight rode his horse over. Ariadne rushed over as well. The mercenaries were shoved aside and Arthur stood face to face with the monks.

"What is this?" he demanded.

"No one can go in there. It is forbidden," one answered.

"Arthur we have no time," the curly-haired knight said.

Arthur called for a knight called Dagonet and a large man walked forward with his battle axe. He knocked down the rocks and Arthur demanded a key.

"It is locked," one said.

"Key," Arthur said once more.

"From the inside," they said.

Dagonet walked forward and chopped up the door leading in. Arthur held a torch and entered. The knights followed him in. Ariadne stood outside in the falling snow with one or two of the knights and the mercenaries who worriedly looked at Marius. She shook her head and resumed her path to the blacksmith. He was not there and she quickly found the armor he had helped her make. She pulled on leather pants designed to hold knives and anything else she needed in a hurry. She wore a leather strap over her chest and a light shirt buttoned only half way up. Over all of that, she had a sleeveless leather jerkin. She pulled on arm guards and boots. She took a leather thong and tied her long hair back. She picked up her sword and knives. Finally, she strapped a quiver to her back and took a bow and arrows. When she walked outside, she met a sight she had rather not seen.

Marius slapped Fulcinia and Arthur immediately held a sword to Marius throat as he fell to the ground. Ariadne looked around them and saw a crippled figure lying on the ground. It was Guinevere. She ran over to the group and the curly-haired knight grabbed her arm.

"Let me go," she said calmly.

"Or what?" he asked, challenging her.

She glared daggers at him.

The crazy monks stood looking at the two rescued prisoners. One was half sobbing.

"It is God's will that these sinners be sacrificed!" one cried.

Hurriedly, the knights threw them back in and began walling them up.

"Lancelot!"

The knight let her go and upon hearing his name, Ariadne narrowed her eyes. A man walked up behind her, leading a large chestnut stallion. She took the reins from him and pulled herself up into the saddle. Lancelot rode up to her.

"A stallion?" he asked.

She ignored him and kicked the horse into a canter. The monks had been walled up and the caravan had started to move out. She held her thick blue cape to her body. The horse accepted her and was willing enough, but she knew he didn't trust her as he would of someone who owned him. Lancelot galloped by her and grabbed the stallion's reins.

"I'm warning you now, any tricks and I'll bring you back here myself and throw you in with the monks. What is your name, lady?" he asked.

"Sir Lancelot, you clearly don't trust me. The feeling is mutual and once again, my name is nothing to you," she replied.

Drumbeats could be heard in the distance and Ariadne urged the horse on, leaving Lancelot behind her. He smiled at her back. He would find her out soon enough. He cantered up to Arthur as the snow continued to fall.


	2. Chapter 2: The Past Remembered

**Chapter 2: The Past Remembered**

The scout called Tristan had gone out once more. Ariadne was beginning to learn their names as well. The muscular bald knight was called Bors, the knight with blonde braids was Gawain, and Galahad was the youngest with curly hair. The forest whispered around them and the snow fell more plentifully. Her stallion rounded his neck and walked patiently behind the caravan and the other horses. He had been Marius's, but was to be sacrificed. They never rode him, only the blacksmith had broken him. She ran her long fingers through his mane. He would need a good grooming. The wagon wheels creaked in front of her. She heard a scream from the wagon and kicked the horse into a canter. Arthur came out a few moments later.

"What did you do to her?" she asked him.

Arthur didn't answer and Ariadne jumped off her horse. She grabbed Arthur's arm.

"Please, answer me," she said.

Arthur turned around.

"No harm is to come to yo u or your friend," he said quietly.

Seeing her mixed expression, he put a hand on her shoulder.

"She was tortured. I moved her fingers back into place," he said.

Ariadne closed her eyes. She remembered that day so well. The machines. Everything was so vivid. She had hid in the stable and Marius had forgotten about her for the day. If he had seen her, he would have surely tried her and then she would have joined Guinevere.

When she opened her eyes, Arthur was still there.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

Arthur nodded and mounted his horse and rode ahead. She followed him with her eyes before she too, pulled herself back up into the saddle. She settled behind the wagon and fell into her thoughts.

_The flower smelled so sweet in the girl's slender fingers. She twirled it around before placing it behind her ear. She spun in a circle, smiling up at the sky. She suddenly stopped. Screams could be heard down the hill. She ran down and saw burning rooftops and fences._

_"No," she whispered._

_She ran down between the homes and searched for her mother and grandmother. Not finding them, she sank to her knees and wept. The flower fell from her hair and gracefully settled onto the dirt. She barely struggled as hands lifted her onto a cart and chained her wrists to it. She listened to the men talk._

_"How much do ye think we'll get for the welp?" one asked._

_"She can be only 12 by the looks of her. A smart man would pay a good price," another answered, chuckling. _

_They both swivelled around to look at her._

_"Girl! Your name!"_

_She only hung her head. She was not worthy of a name. No family. Her name had nothing to it. She felt a dirty hand slap her ash covered cheek. She welcomed the sting. Tears made trails down her face. Darkness took her as she closed her tear swollen eyes. _

_The wagon rumbled to a stop at a village. It was a Roman village by the looks of it. The men roughly took her off the wagon and began wagering with a short, black haired man. _

_"Sold," her captor said._

_The Roman took her bony fingers and led her into his home._

_"FULCINIA!" he bellowed._

_He turned back to her._

_"My little flower, you will be fed and clothed. I will speak with you later," he said, touching her golden locks._

_She pulled away and for a moment, the man's face was a display of enragement. It soon disappeared as his wife appeared beside him. The man nodded to his wife and she took the girl's hand. She brought her to a separate room and bathed her. She found clothing for her to wear and placed a necklace around her neck. She pulled a small ring from the girl's finger._

_"Child, what is this?"_

_"A gift, from a woman in the village," she said quietly._

_"What is your name?"_

_"I am Ariadne," she half-whispered._

_Fulcinia nodded._

_"My husband does not make the best decisions. He will test you, child," she said._

_Ariadne's eyes widened for a moment, but she nodded. She was now a slave. Obedient to her master's will. She set about her chores. _

"Keep up. No one will come to find you if you fall behind."

Lancelot had ridden up next to her. She nodded and cantered back up behind the wagon, which was a considerable distance off. She had not noticed in her pensive state. He rode by her and she watched as he began speaking with Guinevere. She felt the snow begin to mix with rain. Lancelot raised his hand to catch some. He stopped his horse and the wagon moved on. Ariadne nudged the horse into a trot and caught up to him. He glanced at her.

"Are you now willing to tell me who you are?" he asked.

She sighed and looked down.

"Ariadne. My village was burned and I was sold to Marius. I was his house slave for quite a time. He tried to force me to his bed. I refused and tried to run away. I was caught and whipped for it. Many times he had that leather slice my bare skin. He enjoyed watching me. He wanted to see them hurt me. Marius cared naught for others. Only himself. He tortured Guinevere for the same reason. We always resisted. He gave me to the blacksmith to work. The man was kind. He taught me how to wield a sword and how to shoot. I've been away from my home for 15 years. My heritage, of which you questioned earlier, is both Woad and Sarmatian. My mother was captured by a Sarmatian warrior. They fell in love. He died in battle when I was young."

The caravan had stopped and Tristan had gone out once more. Lancelot stared at her in silence. How could she be Sarmatian? Arthur was leading people towards the trees and she started to canter off.

"Wait!"

She pulled the stallion back.

"Sarmatian?"

"Aye," she said with a small smile.

"Have you ever seen it?"

"No. All I ever had of it were stories."

Lancelot looked down and was silent once again.

"I know who you are, Lancelot. I've heard the tales. My mother knew of you somehow. However, not all tales are true," she said.

With that, she rode off and untacked her horse under the trees. She didn't have very much with her, but she had managed to grab an extra blanket from the barn. The horse shifted away as she started to place it on his back and she quieted him. Once she had finished she went over to the wagon. Guinevere smiled up at her friend.

"Ariadne, you've made it."

Ariadne grinned and sat down beside her.

"Aye. Would not have liked to meet the Saxons on my own. How are your fingers?" she asked.

Guinevere just nodded her head.

Fulcinia walked in to give Guinevere her bath. Ariadne gave her a small smile and walked out of the wagon. She caught sight of Lancelot standing by the trees. She shook her head.

Of course, she thought, all the tales are true. Including his love of women. With one last glance, she headed over to help the women. They were making stew and making sure everyone was well and accounted for.

An hour or so later, she took a bowl of stew. Lancelot had not gotten anything as the other knights had. The women had taken as little as possible and the stew was nothing special, but at least it was something. It was still snowing and she pulled her cloak tighter. She saw Lancelot leaning up against a tree and quickened her pace. She suddenly stopped as she saw Guinevere come up. She hid behind a tree, the shadows concealing her. She had many questions she had wanted to ask him. About Sarmatia, the knights, everything. Her heart thumped as she listened to the conversation. She was jealous for a moment, disappointed as well. Guinevere was going to catch all the men's eyes. She shook her head. It was stupid to even be thinking this way. One day and she was letting her guard down. Lancelot stood up and she could hear his voice a little clearer.

"I would have left you and the boy to die," he said.

With one last, lingering look at Guinevere he walked off. Guinevere stood there a moment more, wrapped in her red cloak. She finally walked back towards camp and Ariadne quietly found Lancelot. She found him sitting against another tree, playing with a wooden necklace.

"I brought you some of the stew," she said quietly.

He looked up at the sound of her voice.

"Thank you," he replied, taking the stew from her. It had become less hot as she had eavesdropped.

She started to walk away but stopped, fighting with herself. She walked back and sat down next to him.

"Tell me about Sarmatia and your adventures. I haven't heard a story in many years," she said.

He looked at her in surprise, but grinned.

"The land stretched forever. I used to ride a lot. Always taking a different path," he said.

"My father said the land had been that way as well," she said.

Lancelot ran a finger along the edge of the bowl.

"You said you've been gone fifteen years. I have as well. This is my last mission before I can return to Sarmatia as a free man," he said.

She grew silent and took his hand. His suspicious eyes stayed on her face. He opened his hand and found a small ring.

"Your mother's. She visited and knew my mother and had given it to her. In turn my mother gave it to me. They hoped we would one day find you for her. I do not know what has been her fate, but you have her token now," she explained.

"How-"

"She had told my mother about her brave son who had been taken by the Romans to fight. I knew it was you when I learned your name."

He looked away, his heart heavy with sadness.

She stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You see Lancelot, you and I are both slaves to this Roman world. They've changed our lives and have taken away what we love most. I hope one day I will see you again. Hopefully, one day if I reach Sarmatia," she said.

She started to walk away. The snow had lightened and it drifted lazily from the sky. She closed her eyes. She had done what her mother had tried. The ring was with Lancelot. She could go back to her normal life, if it was normal.

"Wait."

She turned around. Lancelot was walking towards her, a frown on his face.

"Why do you fear us? You never stay more than a moment," he said.

"I'm not very fond of men. You have Marius to thank," she said with a harsh laugh.

Lancelot placed a hand on her cheek and gently turned her face towards him.

"You've nothing to fear," he said.

She felt the heat rising to her face where his fingers were. She hesitated a moment and walked back towards camp. Lancelot ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He sat back down and watched Ariadne from afar as she sat against a tree close to the camp. The night fell down upon them, heavy and dark.

Several hours later, the sun woke them up. It was accompanied by a cry of "Seize him!". Ariadne grabbed her sword and ran into the camp. Dagonet was fighting off several mercenaries who had attacked him at Marius's command. She lunged forward and ran her sword through one mercenary. She stopped when she saw Lucan in Marius's arms. A large mercenary grabbed her around the throat and held a knife to her neck.

"Remember me?" he asked nastily.

She didn't answer for fear of moving and hitting the small blade by accident. There was a sound as an arrow flew through the air. It flew true, straight through Marius's heart. He lost his grip on Lucan and crashed to the ground. Guinevere stood straight and tall, a terrifying and beautiful sight as she held the bow easily. Lancelot and Arthur stood next to her, swords out. Lancelot walked over to the mercenary holding her and pointed a dagger in his back.

"Release her," he said in a threatening voice.

The mercenary gave him a angry glare, but it was the last thing he did. Lancelot stuck the dagger through his back and Ariadne twisted away from the dead man's grip.

"You have a choice. You can help, or you can die," Arthur said.

"Drop your weapons!" the mercenary leader yelled.

The weapons clashed to the ground in unison and they returned to their work. Lancelot walked over to her, a charming grin on his face.

"I thought you said you could fight-"

"I can," she retorted quickly.

Lancelot gave a small laugh and mounted his horse. Gawain walked over to her.

"My lady, if this fool is bothering you I will dispose of him immediately. Just say the word," he said, winking.

"That won't be necessary. I can always do it myself," she replied, a wry grin on her face.

Gawain shook his head in amusement and went to ready his mount. Tristan rode in and dropped a crossbow at Arthur's feet.

"I killed four. We must hurry, for they are right on our ass," he said.

Arthur nodded to his knights and the train hurriedly got under way. Ariadne stayed more towards the back, her bow in her hands. Lancelot held his horse back and rode next to her.

"Do you prefer being behind the wagon closer to the Saxons?" he asked.

"No, I was just staying here in case they do catch us," she replied.

"Ah. I see."

Ariadne had a smile on her face and they rode along in silence.

"There was something I forgot to ask you last night," he said.

"Yes?"

"How close did you live to Sarmatia?" he asked.

"I've always lived in Britain. My parents were once in Sarmatia for a time, but they returned here," she said.

Lancelot nodded, still thinking.

They had not gone extremely far when they came to a large lake of ice. Arthur and Tristan cantered out onto it, followed by the other knights. Lancelot cantered past her and joined the others. Arthur and Tristan had dismounted and Arthur looked back at them.

"Tell the wagons to spread out and for the people to get out of them," he said.

The villagers did as they were told and the wagons slowly rumbled out onto the ice which constantly groaned beneath them. The serene snow covered mountains seemed to suddenly have many eyes that were gleefully waiting for the ice to crack and swallow them.

Ariadne led her horse, keeping one arm out to hold him behind her. The sound of the threatening drumbeats drew closer and Arthur turned his horse around.

"Knights..."

"Well, I'm tired of running. And these Saxons are so close behind, my ass is hurtin'," Bors said.

"Never liked looking over my shoulder anyway,"Tristan mumbled.

"It'll be a pleasure to put an end to this racket," Gawain said.

"And we'll finally get a look at the bastards," Galahad added.

Dagonet who had been smirking the whole time led his horse over.

"Here. Now," he said.

Lancelot didn't move, just gave a small movement of his head. He handed his horse to Jols. Ganis walked over to Arthur.

"I can fight," he said.

"No. You must lead the people to Hadrian's Wall. Track the coastline until you are well south of the wall and you'll miss the Saxon army that is inland," he said and turned to the mercenaries.

"But you're seven against 200!"

"Eight. You could use another bow," Guinevere said as she got out of the wagon.

"You will have you chance soon enough. This man is now your captain. Do as he says!"

Jols was busy putting bows and arrows out. The horses were being led away and Ariadne handed them her horse as well.

"Go with the caravan," Lancelot said.

"No. This is my battle as well as yours," she replied.

She picked up her bow and tested the string. Arthur briefly glanced at her, but said nothing. She checked her belt and her arm and hand guards. Lancelot hadn't moved.

"Why do you care if I fight or not," she said and roughly pushed past him.

The nine of them remaining readied their bows. The Saxon army slowly spilled onto the ice. Their drums still beating and a small chant being cried. Guinevere had an odd expression on her face.

"You look frightened. There is a large number of lonely men out there," Lancelot said.

Guinevere looked at Ariadne and raised her eyebrows. She turned back to Lancelot.

"Don't worry. I won't let them rape you," she replied.

Ariadne grinned. She and Guinevere exchanged one more glance, their eyes sparkling. From across the lake, an arrow flew, but fell short.

"I believe they're waiting for an invitation. Bors! Tristan!" Arthur called.

"But we're far out of range," Guinevere pointed out quickly.

Arthur didn't say anything. Tristan put a group of arrows on his string and launched them at the same time as Bors. The arrows found their targets and several Saxons crashed to the ice. Guinevere's face showed no emotion, but inside she was secretly impressed. Ariadne looked at the bows, which were a much different style than hers. She hurriedly picked up a spare and strung it. She tested it and held another arrow to it. The Saxon army let out a cry and began their slow march forward. The knights readied more arrows, ready to pick the rest of the Saxons off.

"Aim for the end ranks! Make them cluster!" Arthur instructed.

They let off a rapid fire, taking down Saxon after Saxon. Every time a Saxon on the outside went down, the others grouped towards the center. However, the ice held, not cracking as Arthur had hoped. Ariadne looked at him anxiously. She was much preferring the shooting from afar. She shot another group of arrows and took down more Saxons. They screamed and clawed at their faces or chests. Arthur couldn't wait any longer for the ice.

"Close ranks! Prepare for hand to hand combat!" he commanded.

Ariadne threw her bow on the ground and picked up her sword. Lancelot pulled out his twin swords and she looked at them enviously.

"I we return to the Wall, promise you'll teach me how to use those. I'm thinking the skill may be quite useful someday," she said.

Lancelot grinned.

"You can manage them?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied, nonchalantly.

That was the last time of the day that they would have a conversation that was remotely happy. Dagonet looked across the ice at the approaching Saxons. He dropped his sword and picked up his large battle axe. With one final look at them, he rushed towards the Saxons.

"Dagonet!" Bors yelled.

"Cover him!" cried Arthur, his face covered in worry.

The knights had picked up their bows once more and released another volley of arrows as Dagonet chopped at the ice. He continued until it started to crack. Ariadne watched the Saxon leader as his men fell.

"Kill him!" Cynric screamed from the Saxon ranks.

The remaining Saxon archers released their arrows. Dagonet was making more progress as he chopped and Ariadne could feel the ice quake beneath her feet and she immediately wished in a small corner of her mind that she had gone with the caravan. However, the warrior in her soon took over and she shook her head. She shot another arrow into the Saxon ranks and watched with satisfaction as it buried itself in a Saxon archer. One of the few remaining archers released an arrow and it hit Dagonet square in the side. He stumbled, but only for a moment. He swung the axe again and brought it down on the ice.

"Dag!" Bors cried.

Arthur rushed forward, an arrow hitting him in the shoulder. He got to Dagonet's side as he took a last swing.

"Cover them!" Lancelot yelled.

They released another volley of arrows as the ice gave way and started to split. The ice trembled beneath her again, much worse this time. She dropped her bow and rushed out onto the ice. Arthur was struggling to drag Dagonet back. A Saxon landed an arrow in her side, but she ignored it as pain seared down her side. She reached Arthur and Dagonet and began to help drag him back. Bors ran out as well. The Saxons across the ice, slid in between the cracks, meeting their icy doom. They reached the others and Bors put a hand on Dagonet's face.

"Dagonet. Stay with me. Dagonet!" Bors said hoarsely.

Guinevere fired one last shot at the Saxons who had retreated to the shore. She hit a soldier and they backed up more. Bors still sat on the ground with Dagonet and Ariadne looked on, her head swimming. She dropped her sword in the snow and sank slowly to her knees. Blood dripped like raindrops to the snow. It stained the snow and ice, being absorbed as water on a sponge. She held her hand over it and started to stand up. She was too late. Lancelot saw her and walked over.

"It's not deep," she said hurriedly.

Blood pulsed relentlessly from the wound and Lancelot looked at her, his face full of disbelief. Ariadne's eyes were filling with tears as she looked at Dagonet's lifeless form.

"No," Lancelot murmured.

Ariadne looked at him in surprise. Guinevere came over. Her face sad as well.

"We need to get the arrow out. When we get to the Wall, we'll find a surgeon," he said.

"Really, I can do it myself. You should help with Dagonet," she said, her breathing becoming shallow.

Lancelot shook his head. Guinevere took her hand and he pulled the arrow out. It wasn't terribly painful for a few moments. She took a step and the pain seared down her side once more. She forced a smile.

"Come," she said.

Lancelot threw the arrow in the snow and mounted his horse. Dagonet had been placed on his horse, a black sheet brought over his face. Ariadne had not known Dagonet well, but seeing how he had treated Lucan and how he had sacrificed his life for them was enough. She gingerly pulled herself up into the saddle. The stallion began moving forward and another bolt of pain ran along her side. She glanced over at Arthur who had removed the arrow in his shoulder. He stood up straight and was expressionless. Jols watched him apprehensively as he mounted his horse. Guinevere had been given a spare horse and she had already started trotting away. Arthur went to catch up with her and the other knights walked alongside Dagonet's body. Lancelot pulled his horse away from his friend and rode beside her.

"How-"

"I'm fine," she said.

Lancelot smiled to himself and watched the trail ahead.

"Lancelot, I heard you telling Guinevere you would have left her and the boy to die. And had our places been exchanged and we had not spoken, I would have done the same," she said sadly.

He looked up at her abruptly.

"I'm sorry, but as I mentioned before, I was never fond of men," she said.

Lancelot gave a small, hollow laugh.

"And as I said before, you have nothing to worry about."

She shook her head, a small grin of relief on her face.

Arthur led them at a quick pace as they tried to catch the caravan, incase some of Woads. He had lost a lot of blood, but he struggled on. The knights were silent and Guinevere's face was set. Ariadne rode at the back and slowly rubbed her fingers along her stallion's mane.

"You need a name," she murmured.

Lancelot trotted up beside her.

"We should be at the Wall soon," he said.

She tilted her head to the side.

"At the Wall, are most of the people Romans?" she asked.

Lancelot did not answer her.

Ariadne decided to let it go and she tightened her reins. The horse bent his neck and chewed the bit.

"Where do you plan on going after we return?" Lancelot asked her.

She looked at him, her eyes narrowed.

"I'll probably travel. Find another village to stay. I'll help another blacksmith or work in a stable. I've nothing else to do," she said.

"You could always come to Sarmatia. You'd finally be able to see your father's home," he said.

Ariadne looked ahead. Sarmatia. The country that had always been no more than a distant dream to her. Just a story. A fairy tale. She was pulled out of her head as her horse began a slow canter to keep up with Arthur. She could see the caravan ahead and the small group picked up speed. Lancelot cantered by and caught up with Arthur. Bors led Dagonet's horse, his face a mixture of emotions.

Ariadne was quiet. Lost in her thoughts once more.

_The grave was nothing special really, just a pile of Earth with an old sword in it. Nothing left to remind a young girl that her father's bones were in the ground beneath her. A lone tear ran down her cheek and fell onto the grass. So many girls had a father who taught them things they shouldn't, who loved them, and who found them decent husbands. All she had now, was her mother, who grieved beside her. The woman stood up and laid a frail hand on her daughter's shoulder._

_"Hurry along, Aria. We have chores to do," she said, wiping the tears away. _

_The girl shook her head and watched as her mother seemed to drift down the hill. She reached one bony hand out and grasped the hilt of the sword. Her father had no sons. He had died before her mother could bless him with any. This sword would remain in this dirt for eternity. She gave a feeble pull and nothing happened. She finally decided what to do. She ran to the bottom of the hill and gathered flowers. She wove them together and hung them around the hilt of the sword. Her father may not have a son, but he had a daughter who would always keep him in her thoughts. _

"What are you always thinking about?"

Lancelot was next to her once more.

"Nothing of a concern to you," she replied.

He raised his eyebrows at herand looked off into the distance. She felt bad for snapping, but what business did he have in her thoughts?

"Does the Roman Wall have many jobs?" she asked.

"Aye. You'll see when we arrive."

Just as he spoke, they came over another hill and below them, was a field leading off to Hadrian's Wall. It looked bleak and strong. She saw Roman guards patrolling the top level and large doors with large thorns coming off of them. It was certainly a fortress to behold with care.

The knights were all silent at the sight, their faces set. No one ventured a look upon Dagonet, who would never see again with wide eyes, the Wall that had enslaved him all these years. Arthur kicked his horse on and they moved down the hill. The caravan had almost reached the gates, which were slowly being opened. Ariadne thought of Lucan, down in the wagon. Guinevere had gotten back into the wagon and tied her horse to the back. If anyone could comfort Lucan, it would be Guinevere. She got the image of Lucan and Dagonet's body out of her head and concentrated on the horse beneath her, which was actually, very soothing. She looked down as his legs stretched over the grass and she seemed to be falling into it as it entranced her eyes. The grass changed to a stone path and horse's hooves made a different sound and small rocks flew up behind him. She forgot about the pain in her side and how she would have to make a new life for herself, once she was in behind the Wall. He tossed his head and Ariadne sat up once more and saw that they were about to pass under the gates. She looked up at the gate above her. The Roman soldiers saluted Arthur and the caravan rolled into the courtyard.

Ariadne watched the surrounding people apprehensively. Maybe she would be better off with the Woads.


	3. Chapter 3: Papers and Burial

**Chapter 3: Papers and Burial**

They cantered towards the stable area and anxious villagers surrounded them. Ariadne looked around her nervously. The stallion sensing her unease reared up, slashing at the people trying to get close to the new comer. The court they were standing in was filled far back with people and it was a miracle that her horse's hooves struck not one of them. The Roman bishop came out, ready to give a speech on their bravery, but Arthur's stormy face silenced him.

"Bishop Germanius, friend of my father," he said in a terse, menacing tone.

Arthur stormed out and Lancelot walked forward to receive the papers for the knights. Ariadne glanced hurriedly around to see what had become of Guinevere. She stood beside Dagonet's horse with Lucan. The young boy pulled a big ring off the dead knight's finger and rolled it carefully in his fingers. Guinevere left a comforting hand on his shoulder. A loud noise made her turn back to the knights.

Bors's face was crumpled in anger and grief. He had thrown his papers on the ground and stormed out. Gawain picked up the fallen papers and they walked out, except Tristan who was carefully inspected the box that had held the papers. He plucked it out of the soldiers hands and walked off to the others. Ariadne remained frozen in the midst of the villagers. She had no idea where to go and where the stables might be. A roman soldier came up behind her and very quickly had a knife around her throat as he bent her backwards over the top of the saddle.

"Pretty wench. Might I assist you in getting off your horse?"

And with a mighty heave, he yanked her clean out of the saddle and into the dirt. They scuffled and she punched him clean in the lip, her side throbbing with every blow she delivered. Finally, the Roman punched her square in the temple and her world blacked for a few moments. His knife was back at her throat and little drops of blood dripped down as he maliciously held it too close.

"I like them with spirit," he said disgustingly, his eyes filled with lust.

Ariadne's head swam and she became frightened as to what to do. The man's grip seemed to loosen and he dragged her to the stables. Her horse was being restrained and thrown into a nearby stall. He tied her to a post with ropes. She sat there, hidden by huge sacks, her face and side bleeding freely onto the dry straw. Her horse banged menacingly on his stall door. The man looked at her one more time.

"Tonight will be one of the best ye have ever participated in," he said, his face getting it's disgusting glow back.

So she went from one jail to another. This one just didn't have iron bars.

"Aria!"

Her head perked up in an instant. A shadowy form came around the corner and hurriedly cut her bonds. She turned to look up into the face of her liberator. Lancelot smiled down on her and carefully wiped the dripping blood off her face.

"Roman scum," she muttered.

"Try having to be around that every single day of your life," he joked.

She rolled her eyes.

"So how'd you find me?"

"That devil came out of here with the biggest grin on his face and I didn't see you come in behind us. So I took that as a sign," he said with a very charming grin.

"Well, thank you, Sir Knight," she said, a hint of a mocking tone in her voice.

He offered her his hand and she stood up, taking a sharp breathe. She clutched her side and winced, but then her face began to hurt. She then fell to her knees, unable to keep going for that very moment. Lancelot knelt down next to her and gently removed her hand from her side and looked.

"Well, I'm no Dagonet, but I can stitch you up a bit," he announced.

"Great," Ariadne replied, rolling her eyes again.

He helped her back up and they slowly made their way to his rooms. There he took out cases of medical supplies. He threaded a needle and lifted up the side of her shirt so it was out of the way of the wound. He quickly averted his eyes to just the wound. Now wasn't the time to start thinking of anything else. He began cleaning and stitching. Ariadne winced and almost pushed his hands away, ready to tell him that she would just leave it.

"So, Sir Lancelot, you're free now. Where do you plan to go on from here?"

He stopped stitching as visions of his home came to mind.

"You know where I'd go. And as soon as possible. I have wasted enough time here as it is."

Ariadne grinned and gave a hollow laugh.

"What?"

"I just find it strange how you found nothing here of which you found worth your time. The Roman's held you against your will, but they didn't keep you from seeing something beautiful or incredible. You're determined to hate it. You haven't seen the surprises held within this very land."

"I'd rather not stay to witness them," he replied, liking the conversation less and less.

They continued in silence until he pronounced her wound was all done. He then took a wash clothe and cleaned her face.

"There," he said with a sigh.

Ariadne grinned and stood up. She gave a deep curtsy, which was quite humourous to Lancelot for she had pants on, and clasped his hand and kissed it.

"Your kindness has been very much appreciated."

And she walked out to the stables to see to her horse.

As she continued on the path, she saw the knights heading out to the small cemetery. She glanced at the stable and back to the knights. Quickly, she decided that she'd rather pay her last respects to Dagonet. She followed the knights, staying well behind them. They walked in and Arthur spoke of Dagonet in great words and Bors dumped some remaining wine upon the grave and sat next to it. The other headed back to the Wall. They would more than likely celebrate their freedom, but subdued after the death of their brother at arms. The brother with one of the biggest hearts of all.

As the knights left, she walked up to the grave and dropped a single flower she had picked on the way. It twirled gracefully before settling on the mound of new dirt. A single tear dripped into the dirt and she said a final good-bye to the kind giant of a knight. She stood up and saw Guinevere sitting with Arthur, deep in conversation.

Ariadne brushed off the knees of her borrowed pants and started to walk back up the hill. Lancelot surprised her as he came out of the bushes leading their horses.

"Alright, you have one shot. Show me the beauty of this land and I shall bow at your feet and worship the ground you stand upon," he said, his eyes sparkling.

"Fine."

She threw him a look and gingerly pulled herself into the saddle. She gave her horse a kick and they galloped off from the Wall. The wind whipped around their faces and hair. Ariadne took a deep breathe and swallowed the great feeling of freedom on the back of a fleet steed. Days like these were so rare to her. She wanted to go on forever. However, she couldn't. Her horse began to start breathing heavily and she pulled him up.

"Well, that wasn't anything different. We do that most of the time we leave the Wall."

"That wasn't it. I'm giving the horses a break," she replied.

Lancelot shrugged and hopped off. He looked up at her, squinting in the brightness of the day.

"You name this beast yet?"

"No, but I'm sure I'll think of something," she laughed.

A cloud moved in above them and the horses breathing had slowed a bit. She checked her horse's chest and decided they could continue at a slower pace. She got back into the saddle and motioned for Lancelot to follow her. They set off again and plunged into the woods. She had gone through these woods so many times when she was younger that she could have found her way in the dark. It had certainly been a while though. Many of the paths were overgrown and trees had fallen. She paused at one section before picking the right path that lead down a well traveled path. Bright leaves were set about to illuminate the path with their different colours and the carpet of leaves from the Fall were thick and crinkled under the horses' hooves.

"The Woads use this path. They carry their dead upon it and when there is a ceremony, they travel upon it. It's part of tradition. The trails off this path lead to glorious things. Things that are awe inspiring to most people," Ariadne explained.

"So why are there no Woads on it today?"

Ariadne shrugged and pushed her horse on.

They traveled a little farther before coming to a path that was marked with brilliantly coloured leaves that were arranged in a special form. She turned down it and came to another fork. She gave her horse a long rein and let him choose the way. They started down the more over grown path and Lancelot made a noise of displeasure as they started down a steep hill.

"That beast seems to enjoy difficult paths."

"He just chose the one that was more appealing to him, more welcoming you might say. Either way, there's something wonderful at the end."

"Might I ask what was down the other trail?" Lancelot questioned.

"A gorge with a river at the bottom. It's quite beautiful. My mother and I used to ride there and swim," she answered.

They continued down the path, branches sometimes scratching at their faces. They seemed to have hit a dead end when Ariadne jumped out of the saddle and looked up at him.

"We're here."

Lancelot looked around dubiously. All he saw were more flowers and leaves.

Ariadne began walking straight into a bush and she carefully pushed aside the branches. There, unfolding before their eyes, was a breath taking waterfall. The water plunged down into a crystal blue lake and mist sprayed up from the collision of waterfall and lake. Lancelot's breathe caught in his chest as they stood and watched.

"You're probably wondering how they keep the leaves as you have seen. There's a caretaker that is given the post of this trail and some of the adjoining ones and he takes care of the leaves at all times and makes sure they are arranged nicely. The post passes along the generations. It is an honor to have it. The waterfall itself is considered one of the ceremonial places for all the Woad tribes."

"Incredible."

Ariadne looked at him with a triumphant smile on her face. Lancelot looked down at her with a look that clearly said he didn't want to get into it and they both began laughing.

"We should get back. After all, you do have freedom to celebrate," she said quietly, still staring at the waterfall.

Lancelot nodded, lost in his own world of thoughts. Ariadne looked at his face, searchingly. After a moment, she turned away. This was stupid. What made him so different in her eyes? Every other time a man had been around her, something awful had happened. The same thing could happen at any moment. She shook her head and got back on her horse and looked down at Lancelot, who was still transfixed by the waterfall.

"Ready?"

He blinked a few times and quietly walked over to his horse.

They rode back in an eerie quiet. Both thinking. Finally, Lancelot spoke.

"Well, you've proven the beauty of your land. But I have a question for you. Would you not even be a little bit curious to see the land of your father? I know you wanted to see it someday, but why not travel with the knights when we leave. It'll be safer and you'll be with guides who know the land."

He said this all very quickly, only glancing at her once. Ariadne narrowed her eyes.

"I will one day venture to the land of my father. But for now, my people have a problem here. Rome has left. But how do we know for sure that none others will try to claim it. I appreciate your offer, but I will see you at a later time in that land," she said sadly.

Lancelot nodded and a grin came onto his face.

"Well, I know Gawain and Galahad will be a bit disappointed that you will not be accompanying us."

Ariadne laughed. It was a crazy, free laugh that sang to the sky surrounding her. It surprised her as much as Lancelot. She hadn't heard herself laugh like that in years. They were coming up on the field and she leaned forward slightly in the saddle and yelled to the horse and he opened up over the field. Lancelot came up beside her and they galloped back towards the Wall, almost floating on the wind. The soldiers opened the gate and they slowed to a walk and made their way to the stables. They dismounted and unsaddled their horses. Lancelot came over to her stall and watched her brush down the horse's sweaty back.

"I must say, it was beautiful. Thank you very much, my lady," he said cordially, complete with a mock bow.

Ariadne raised and eyebrow and inclined her head a bit.

"Go celebrate. I promise I'll come be social once this guy is taken care of."

"I'll probably find you half way back to your village in that time," he quipped.

"You won't. Promise."

With that, she returned to grooming her horse and Lancelot left. She hummed as she went about her work. She thought about how nice Lancelot had been. Her stitches were fine, they were not even bothering her. She then thought about what to name her horse. She couldn't keep calling him 'beast'. But she wanted something that fit him. As if reading her mind, he threw his giant head up and down causing her to start laughing once again.

"Silly boy. What to call you? Huh? What are we going to call you?"

She wasn't expecting a response. The horse gazed upon her, his chocolate brown eyes fixed lovingly upon her. He would be a great steed for when the war came. If it ever did. A sudden thought struck her as well. Knights come back as great horses. She figured that somewhere, in the heart of this horse, her father watched over her. She gave him a final pat and went to the well outside the stable. She quickly splashed some water on her face and dug spare clothes out of her bag. A simple dress that she tied in the middle with a worn leather belt. The sleeves were long and hung low at the wrists. The hem was singed and stained from trudging through mud. And the neck had a tear in it, making a small 'V' on her chest. She put on her worn leather boots and braided her hair back. At least she wouldn't look like a torn ragamuffin. With a deep sigh she headed down to the courtyard where the nights were being attended by many barmaids and villagers.

There were flaming torches everywhere and many rough, wooden tables and stools. There were Romans playing dice and knives. Barmaids rushed around with large mugs of ale. Some soldiers had barmaids, with very little clothing on their upper bodies, perched on their laps. She spotted Lancelot, sitting at a table with a few of the nights, his expression was anything but celebratory. She walked over, but was caught around the waist by a Roman playing a game of dice.

" 'Ello sweet'art. You got any plans?"

He ran a long, dirty finger along the arm of her dress and she gingerly picked it up between two fingers and pushed it off.

"Actually, I'm booked for a few weeks, but that woman over there looks pretty lonesome," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

The man took no notice and drunkenly walked over to her. He promptly received a slap on the face and he waltzed back over to his friends to find her sitting with the knights. He quickly made his way over and got his nasty, rotten toothed face right up against Lancelot's.

"She was at my table first!"

Lancelot just looked at him lazily, ignoring the fact that he was being accused of something. The man whipped out his knife and immediately the knights sprang into action. But they had nothing to do because Ariadne already had her own knife at his throat.

"Kind sir, please return to your table. I told you I am booked and would not be caught with the likes of you anyways."

The man gave her a dirty look, but scampered off and vomited at his friends' feet.

Ariadne rolled her eyes and took a drink of the ale that was sitting in front of her. The knights smiled and raised their mugs.

"To Dagonet," they all said.

Ariadne raised her glass with theirs and took another drink.

Galahad got up from his chair and pushed Gawain out of the way to sit next to Ariadne.

"Lady, where do you hail from? We are all certain you are a Woad," he said.

She smirked.

"Why yes. I am part Woad. Half, to be exact. My father was a Sarmatian knight who died when I was young. He captured my mother during a fight between the Woads and it was on a night much like this. It was a surprise attack. They hoped to swiftly overtake the Woads and gain the territory. But that didn't happen. The Woads were ready and launched a volley of fire arrows which set many areas of grass on fire. This made it harder for the knights but they struggled on. Women in the village ran hurriedly from their homes, deeper into the forest. The knights galloped their horses in and one knight, found my mother stopped at a stream. She was wetting her clothes so as not to catch fire. He grabbed her wrist and she looked him in the eye and said, 'I do not fear you'. He pulled her onto his horse and galloped back, putting her with the rest of the captives. The next day, he went to her and she rode beside him on a spare horse. He could not over come how unafraid she was. Eventually, they fell in love. I was born. And he died when I was but 3 or 4 years of age. My mother always told me stories of their adventures together. How he took her to Sarmatia at one time. As much as you dislike the Woads, they are people just like you and hold pride in their land. It is what they fight for. My mother had respect for both countries, just as I do."

Lancelot sat there grinning. She had certainly shut up Gawain and Galahad. Tristan had even come over.

"So you're half Sarmatian?" Gawain asked, still in a bit of wonder.

"Aye."

Galahad turned to him and they started whispering.

"Bors was right though. How rare a beautiful Sarmatian women is. The only reason she's beautiful AND Sarmatian is because she's got Woad in her."

"I heard that," she quipped.

The knights looked at her a bit sheepishly.

Gawain stood up as a song was being played by a villager hoping for pay. He bowed to Ariadne and offered her his hand.

"Would you care to dance?"

She looked up at him, a blush creeping onto her pale cheeks.

"I don't know how to," she said quietly.

Lancelot stood up.

"I'll show her," he said.

Ariadne looked up at him, suspiciously, as he took her hand into his and guided her away from the table.

Gawain stood their muttering obscene things about Lancelot and how he always stole away the best women to grace his presence. Galahad handed him a drink and told him to shut up.

Ariadne stood awkwardly in front of Lancelot as he placed her hand in his and began to pick up the rhythm of the song. He was a decent dancer and he led her around drunks and bustling barmaids. It made her dizzy after the excitement from today. At the end of the song she curtsied to him and made her way back to the table. Lancelot followed her back and they sat down once again.

"Well lads, we're free men!" Bors yelled as he walked over.

The knights nodded their agreement and a cheer rose up. Ariadne was beginning to tire and she felt the men should have some time to speak of their victory and lost friend. She stood up and headed out. She would sleep in the stable. She was sued to that by now. Lancelot noticed her leave and quickly ran after her, to the muttering of Gawain and Galahad.

"Wait," he called after her.

Ariadne turned around, a disappointed look on her face.

"Ah, Lancelot. You go stay with your friends. I'm just a little worn out."

"You have every right to be. Where are you going?"

"The stable. The straw will keep me warm. It'll be fine," she replied.

Now it was Lancelot's turn to look disappointed. But his expression quickly turned.

"Stay with me. It wouldn't be good for you to stay outside again. I'll have extra blankets brought in. Come with me," he said.

"No. I can't. That would be awful of me and it would start people talking. I don't want that kind of reputation."

"I think you already have one from telling the Roman that you were 'booked' for sleeping with other men," Lancelot joked.

She covered her face and started laughing.

Lancelot put a hand on her shoulder.

"It's fine. Come with me," he said.

Just then a horn sounded from on the Wall and Lancelot's face turned ashen. He grabbed her hand and they ran up the nearby steps. The scene before her made her gasp. Tiny campfires were lit on the open field. The Saxon army had returned. This time, with its full numbers. Arthur and Guinevere soon joined them on the Wall and Ariadne looked at her friend's light blue dress. The shoulder hung down and it was rumpled. Arthur's clothes seemed to have been hastily put on as well. She raised an eyebrow and grinned at Guinevere who gave her a mixed look of happiness and worry. Lancelot had run after Arthur and Guinevere turned in pursuit of them both. Ariadne stopped at the top of the steps for a final look at the field. So the eve of battle had come. Beneath her, Lancelot stared after Arthur's retreating back, his head tilted to the side in sadness. She ran down and took his hand.

"He's going to die in a battle that he should never even be taking part in," Lancelot muttered.

"As will I. My duty is to my mother and family."

Lancelot turned to face her, an incredulous look on his face. He took her hand in a firm grasp and led her into the fort. They went down several candle lit corridors and finally stopped at a thick wooden door. He pushed it open and began fumbling with blankets on a spare couch. Ariadne awkwardly stood there, watching him. She stepped over and placed a hand on his quickly moving one.

"Lancelot, if these were your people, you'd be saying the same thing I am," she said softly.

He turned to face her. His dark brown eyes searching hers. He brought his hand to gently cup her face and his thumb gently caressed her cheek. And for the first time ever, Ariadne did not flinch at a man's touch upon her face. He slowly brought his face close to hers and kissed her gingerly on the lips, as if she was made of the finest glass and his touch would break her. She kissed him back and ran her fingers through his curly dark hair, this feeling so new to her. They fell down onto Lancelot's bed and he expertly undid her belt and pulled the dress over her head, soon undoing his own clothes. A deep feeling of regret set into his heart that this would be the only time he would have with her.

Ariadne was a bit terrified, but was so enamored by the new sensations that she let Lancelot do whatever he pleased. She felt for once that some one loved her and would take care of her, not leaving her all alone. But the thought of the impending Saxons outside made her push away.

"I can't. This is wrong that we're doing this to each other."

"We may never get another chance," Lancelot replied, his eyes desperate.

Tears began to well in her eyes and she fell back into his arms and the dark engulfed them. It was a darkness of mystery and heartbreak.


End file.
